


The Accident

by Macx



Category: Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter gets a call. About his father. Because there was an accident...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Accident

**Author's Note:**

> originally written in the mid-nineties

It was a normal and very quiet day at Ghostbuster Central. Janine Melnitz sat behind her desk in the large hall of the old fire station, reading a novel. She was done with her work and since there had been no busts in the last two days, she was a bit bored.  
In the living room, a floor above Janine, Slimer and Peter shared the couch, watching TV. Winston was somewhere in the kitchen, making sandwiches while Egon was in his lab. They hadn't seen the blond man since breakfast when he had stuffed some egg in his mouth while reading a book on quantum physics, and then disappeared. Lunch had been without Egon and now Winston was trying to get some food in the scientist, who forgot the world around him when he was deep in research. Ray was visiting his aunt Loise.  
Downstairs, the phone shrilled and seconds later they heard Janine answer it. Winston, who had just come out of the kitchen and was on his way to the spiral stairs, stopped. The other Ghostbuster did the same. Since there was no immediate alarm everyone resumed what they were doing. It seemed that this call didn't concern a possible bust.  
Winston yawned. "Man, I wish we had something to do. This is getting boring. I think I've watched more TV in the last two days than I watched all week."  
Peter stretched comfortably. "Well, it gives you some time to get on with your love life." He grinned.  
"What life? Pete, you haven't dated a single girl in those two days."  
Peter looked insulted. "Hey, you spying on me, Zed?"  
"Dr. Veeenkmaaaan!" Janine's voice carried up the stairs. "Phooone!!"  
The psychologist rose and shrugged. "Here we go."  
"You think it's a girl?"  
"Who else? They were just waiting for me to be home and free for some time. Word gets round."  
Winston chuckled. "Yeah, tell me another one."  
Peter grimaced and went downstairs while Winston resumed his task of catering.

"Who is it?" Peter asked when he had arrived downstairs. He noted that Janine looked unusually serious.  
"Hospital.""Hospital?" Peter frowned, trying to think of a girl he knew who worked at a hospital. He came up with three possible candidates, but he hadn't seen or heard of them in years. He took the receiver and punched a button so the call would be on line again. "Venkman."  
He listened to the voice on the phone and nodded. "Yes." Then he blanched all of a sudden and sat down abruptly on the desk. Janine looked alarmed as Peter's face seemed to loose more and more color. He nodded again. "Are you sure?" His voice was thin and strained. "Of course I come ... no... right away ... thank you for your call......"  
Janine, still watching her boss in alarm, noted that the connection had been broken and rose. "Dr. Venkman?"  
No answer.  
She took the receiver gently out of his hand and replaced in. "Peter?" she asked again. "What's wrong?"  
Peter turned his head, his face white as a sheet of paper, his eyes wide with what she immediately recognized as fear. Something about that look made her stomach turn into an icy glacier.  
"That was Dr. Matthews from the Memorial," Peter said tonelessly.  
"And ...?" Janine prompted, trying to decide whether she should call the others or not.  
"There was ..... an accident ..." Peter's voice faltered and for a second the mask slipped. But before Janine could react he had collected his shields again.  
"What accident? Who had an accident?" She paled. "Ray?"  
The dark-haired man shook his head. She had never seen him like this, completely in shock, unable to answer to questions. It was time to call Winston and Egon.  
But that proved to be unnecessary. Winston, curious as he was, came downstairs. When he saw Janine's worried face and Peter's defeated looking figure he frowned.  
"Peter? Janine? What's wrong?"  
The psychologist didn't answer.  
"He had a call from hospital," Janine explained quickly. "Something about an accident."  
Winston came up to them, looking closely at his friend. "An accident? Peter, what happened? Who had an accident?"  
A pair of emerald eyes stared at the other man. "My father." The voice was bare of any emotions.  
Janine gasped 'Oh, no' and suddenly understood the strange behaviour of her boss.  
Winston was too shocked to react. Then he asked, "Your father? What happened? How is he?"  
"The doctor didn't say much." Peter's voice quivered. "I have to go.... to the hospital. They .. they want me to sign the papers so they can ... operate him."  
Winston knew what that meant. Charlie Venkman had been brought to the hospital unconscious and had not woken since. So a relative had to sign the permission that he could undergo surgery. And this surgery had to be urgent because else they might have been able to wait for him to come round.  
"Wait," he said, "we'll accompany you. I'll just get Egon."  
The dark haired man shook his head. "No. I can go alone. You don't have to ..."  
"We're coming along," Winston interrupted, who interpreted the miserable look correctly. Peter couldn't be left alone. Not now. And he didn't want to be left alone, but wasn't the one to admit it.  
"Janine ...?"  
The secretary was already halfway up the stairs. Her face was as pale as Peter's as she turned and nodded. "I'll get him."  
Winston nodded thankfully, guiding Peter to Ecto-1. He opened the door and made Peter sit down on the back seats. The psychologist seemed not to notice it, his eyes staring at some far away point.

Ten minutes later they were on their way. Egon, sitting in the back with Peter, watched the other man with worried, blue eyes. The psychologist showed no reaction, his face a composed, pale mask. Janine had told him about the call and that it was Peter's father who was lying in a hospital, but neither of them knew any more. Egon had immediately left whatever experiment he had wanted to complete.  
When they arrived they went to the reception and where told where to go. A nurse gave Peter a stack of papers to sign. Peter signed them automatically, his hand shaking badly and he bit his lower lip.  
"Where is he?" he asked in a rough voice as he gave the papers to the nurse. "Can I see him?"  
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Dr. Venkman, but he's already on his way to surgery. You have to wait." Then she walked away.  
Peter stood like rooted to the spot, unable to move away from the reception desk as if he would crumble without support. Egon placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it slightly. Peter turned to him, his eyes holding a lost look.  
"Let's find a place to wait for the doctor, Peter," the deep bass voice floated over to him. Egon steered him over to the room where relatives adn friends were supposed to wait for the good or the bad news. Egon fervently hoped it wasn't the latter they'd hear from whoever would come to tell them about Charlie Venkman's condition.  
The three men sat down on the uncomfortable, brightly colored chairs. Peter stared at the grey floor, unable to show any reaction to his friends' worried looks. The hospital hadn't told him much over the phone. Just that there had been an accident and that it didn't look good. It didn't look good. What did that mean? That his dad would die? That he had a good chance if everything went well with the operation? That he.....  
Abruptly he rose and walked over to one wall of the room. There he turned and walked back. His pacing became more agitated and finally he slammed his fist in one wall. When he repeated that movement a hand grabbed his wrist, restraining him from hurting himself. With an angry glare in his eyes he turned and met two worried, blue eyes.  
"Peter, don't," Egon simply said.  
Peter wanted to say something in return, but merely jerked his hand out of Egon's hold and walked back to the chairs, sitting down and staring at a spot between his feet. Egon walked over to him and sat down beside him, not saying anything, simply giving him support by being there.  
Hours later the door to the waiting room opened and a middle aged, dark haired man in a white coat entered. He looked at the Ghostbusters.  
"Who of you is Peter Venkman?"  
Peter rose, his movements abrupt. "I am. You are ...?"  
"Dr. Matthews. I'm of the Emergency Staff."  
"My father ... "  
"Mr. Venkman came through the operation half an hour ago. He's on his way to the Intensive Care Unit soon."  
"Intensive care?" Peter echoed. "What happened? How is he?" His voice was hoarse and his green eyes were wide, the only spots of color in the ashen face.  
"Your father had a car accident. The driver of the bus he was in lost control over the vehicle and crashed. The bus overturned. Two people were killed immediately, a lot were injured. Your father was stuck between two seats and had to be cut out."  
"How bad is it?" Egon asked. He and Winston had stepped up to their friend. The physicist laid a hand on Peter's arm when he noticed the tense posture.  
"He broke several ribs, his leg's badly cut and he lost a lot of blood. He might have a concussion. We don't know. His spleen ruptured but we could get him here in time to prevent the internal bleeding from spreading. He's receiving transfusions right now. But he's far from stable. The next hours will have to tell. But he's got good chances. He's a strong man."  
Peter swallowed and, if humanly possible, went even whiter. He looked ready to collapse every second. Egon's hand squeezed his arm, but the psychologist didn't seem to feel it at all.  
"Can I ....," he licked his dry lips, "can I see him?"  
The doctor shook his head. "Not yet. But I'll tell the nurses to get you when we have him in the ICU. You can see him then for a few minutes."  
The doctor left and all of a sudden Peter's knees gave way. Egon grabbed him and half carried him over to the chairs. Peter showed no reaction. His eyes were burning, but he didn't cry, and his lips were a thin white line.  
"Peter?" Egon tried. No reaction.  
He tried it again and this time, Peter turned his head, giving Egon a wry smile. It was far from the ones he usually showed. "I'm okay," he said, not sounding convincing at all. His voice lacked life. "Why don't you guys go home? I ..."  
"Nonsense," Egon interrupted, which wasn't normally his way. "We will stay."  
"Right," Winston backed him up. "Or do you want to get rid of us, m'man?"  
Peter shook his head and his hands started to shake again. He leaned back into the hard, uncomfortable chair and closed his eyes. He didn't want the others to see the tears gathering there. But they had. Winston gave Egon a helpless look. Peter was shutting them out, not wanting them to see his pain and his fear for his father. Egon sighed.  
"Anybody want some coffee?" The black man rose and looked questioningly at them.  
Egon nodded. Peter didn't opened his eyes, but said, "Black."  
"Black. You got it." Winston disappeared in search of the cafeteria.  
The moment he was gone, Peter rose abruptly. He walked to one of the only window, staring through the half closed blinds. Egon watched him, his eyes full of worry. Then Peter started pacing. After his third round the physicist stood and blocked his way. Venkman simply looked at him, then turned when Egon didn't move out of his way. The blond man grabbed his arm and made him stop his restless pacing.  
"Peter ...."  
"Let me go."  
"Peter, please ..."  
"Let. Me. Go!"  
The words were harsh and angry. Peter's hands were curled into fists as if he wanted to hit Egon if he didn't move out of his way. A spark glittered in the green eyes, but it died a quick death, replaced by hopelessness and hurt again. As if he was aware that the blond man could see his innermost feelings, Peter pulled himself together and tried to strengthen the wall he had erected around the part of himself that suffered.  
"Peter, don't do this," Egon pleaded.  
The psychologist's breath caught and he turned away, his hands still clenched into fists. He was fighting to control his feelings, but a part of him told him that it was okay to feel. That it was okay to show his pain.  
Egon hesitated. He didn't want to drive Peter further away with words of understanding and care. But then there was the part in him that urged him to help the psychologist through with this. Peter needed to get his emotions out or he would suffocate on them.  
"Egon?" The voice was small and lonely, the dark head bent. "He's gonna die, isn't he?"  
The question made Egon gasp for air. He stared at the back of the other man and saw his shoulders twitch. With one jump he was at Peter's side, touching his shoulder.  
"The doctor said that he has a good chance."  
Peter's eyes misted with tears and he wasn't able to hold them back this time. A sob broke through and the physicist gathered the other man in his arms, holding him. Venkman clung to him like a drowning person and Egon held him tightly, one hand gently stroking Peter's neck. The wiry body in his arms shook badly and the the sobs were heart-wrechning. Egon didn't know what to say, so he simply held on, letting Peter get it out of his system. After some time the dark-haired man freed himself from Egon's gentle embrace and wiped his tear-stained face, embarrassed by the outbreak. Egon guided him over to the chairs and made him sit down. The psychologist didn't even resist.  
"They said he's lost a lot of blood," he suddenly whispered. "And he's in intensive care ..."  
"He had an operation. A lot of people are brought to intensive care afterwards."  
"He will die."  
"Peter!"  
The dark haired man shook his head. "I know it. He will die. He will leave me."  
That stabbed like a knife through Spengler's heart. He remembered a similar scene, long ago, when Peter's mother had died. Peter had been at college. The call had come all of a sudden, as had the illness of Anne Venkman. Peter had hurried to the hospital, but he had been too late. His mother had died and he had been unable to do anything about it. At that time, Peter had shut out Ray and Egon, too, but they had been able to get him through that time okay. It had been hard on the psychology student, but he had worked through.  
Now, it was different.  
"No, Peter. Don't think of that."  
Peter started to shiver again and Egon put an arm around the other man. "I don't want him to leave, Egon. Not ... not before ....." He broke off, unable to continue.  
"Before what?" Egon asked gently.  
"I love him. I really do. Even though he gets into all kinds of trouble I still love him. He's my dad. He's ..." Tears were sliding down his face again and Egon began to stroke his friend's back.  
Charlie Venkman was a con man. A first rate con man, who had gotten himself, and sometimes the Ghostbusters, into all kinds of trouble. He wasn't around New York very often, but had always paid quick visits to his son when he was. Though Peter had more than once lectured his father on what he was doing, the older Venkman just couldn't retire - which was what his son wanted most, that Charlie would stop his scams. But it was in the blood.  
Egon smiled humorlessly. Peter had inherited that from his father. Like him, he was able to talk himself out of the biggest trouble - and the Ghostbusters with him. He was the front man of their business, who could deal with reporters so they ate out of his hand, and he was their mouth. Even though Peter was flippant and sometimes a smart mouth Egon wouldn't have him any other way. But unlike his father Peter wasn't a con man. He knew they had an image and a business to protect. Scams on his part would get them bad headlines. As would scams from the parent of a Ghostbuster.  
The physicist remembered the Ghost Repellers. They had been lucky to get out of that with not a single charge. The older Venkman had disappeared without a trace, just sending postcards now and then.  
"I never told him," Peter whispered. "He doesn't know ....."  
"He knows," Egon said softly. "He's a father. He knows."  
Peter looked at him, raising one eyebrow. "Read one of my magazine, have you?" he asked, trying to sound light, but failed. The pain in his voice let Egon flinch inwardly.  
The door opened and Winston came in, balancing three cups of coffee in his hands. One look at Peter and Egon told him what had happened, but he left it uncommented, simply placing the cups on the table. Egon took two and forced one of them into Peter's cold hands. The psychologist grabbed it, staring into the black liquid as if it held all the answers.  
"Drink it, Peter," Egon advised him.  
Peter lifted the cup and took a careful sip. The smell and the taste made him feel sick to the stomach. The two other Ghostbusters watched him, worry displayed on their faces. Winston shot Egon a questioning look and the answer in the blue eyes was clear.  
The door opened again and a nurse stepped in. She looked at the three men, her eyes locking on Peter, with years of expertise identifying him as the relative.  
"Peter Venkman?"  
Peter nearly spilled his coffee as he jumped up. "Yes?"  
"Your father has been transferred to the ICU. You can see him now. But only for a short while."  
Egon took the cup out of Peter's suddenly lax fingers. "Do you want me to accompany you?" he asked in a soft voice.  
The dark haired man shook his head. "No. Thanks." He found a smile for his friend and then followed the nurse.  
They went down the corridor until they arrived at the intensive care. Here, Peter had to put on green clothes, looking like surgeon's clothes. Then he was led into the next room. The nurse showed him to a cubicle of glass which contained two beds. Peter swallowed as he saw the machines all around the occupied bed. He stepped hesitantly inside.  
"Ten minutes maximum," the nurse told him, but he hardly heard it.  
The figure on the bed was wrapped in bandages and hooked to several machines. They emitted not a single beep as they monitored heart rate and breathing. An IV stuck in one arm and the right leg was slightly elevated, wrapped in a cast. Peter felt like he was falling into a black hole as he looked at the bruised face of Charlie Venkman. His father lay still, not showing a single sign of life. If it hadn't been for the monitor, Peter would have thought he was dead. He came closer, his legs carrying him to the bedside on their own. Without conscious thought he fell on the chair and grabbed his father's hand. Silent tears streamed down his face as he watched the seemingly dead figure on the bed.  
He sat there until the nurse came to get him, telling him visiting time was over.

*

Peter fought hard against leaving. Finally Egon and Winston gave up convincing him that it would be best to go home and get some sleep.  
"I'm not tired!" Peter snarled, his emerald eyes staring challengingly at them.  
Egon noted that Peter was dead tired. They had been at the hospital for hours now and all those hours had been tense and unsure for Peter. He might not be bodily tired, but he was emotionally burned out. He needed a break, but Egon wouldn't force him. That would result in Venkman withdrawing even further. He held a short conference with Winston, and the black Ghostbuster called Janine and told her what had happened. She had offered to come over, but Egon had declined that offer. Now she would inform Ray. They hadn't called him yet. Egon and Winston would stay with Peter.  
Peter got up and resumed his pacing again, his body tense. Egon watched him for some time. Just before he was ready to get Peter to sit down again - maybe by force - Peter slumped into a chair. He looked spent, dead tired. He belonged into a bed, not here. But Peter would fight to stay close to his dad.  
"You don't have to stay." The hoarse voice startled Egon and he looked at the dark haired man.  
"But we will."  
Peter stared at him for a long time. "Thanks," he finally said, his eyes softening a bit. "I just wish they would let me stay with him." He stared down at the floor again. "I feel like I'm leaving him alone."  
"No, you don't."  
Peter sighed and closed his eyes. "Why can't I stay with him?" There was desperation in his eyes. "I ... I want to be there when he wakes."  
It gave Egon some hope that Peter talked about his father waking up. It seemed that he had finally gotten over his fear that his father would die. That was the moment Dr. Matthews entered the waiting room again.  
"The nurse told me you're still here." He looked into Peter's pale face. "I advice you go home for tonight. You can't do anything. Your father is heavily sedated and he won't wake up in the next hours."  
Peter stared at him, anger burning in his eyes. Before he could say anything Winston grabbed his arm. "Will do, doctor. We return tomorrow."  
Matthews nodded and left.  
"I won't leave!" Peter hissed angrily, prepared to fight for it.  
"Yes, you will, homeboy. You need some sleep and rest," the black Ghostbuster countered.  
"No, I don't!"  
Winston wasn't fond of the idea forcing his friend to do something he didn't want to, but it was the best for Peter. "Either you leave her on your own two feet and conscious, or I'll carry you back to Ecto after I knocked you out." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and returned the angry stare.  
Peter was speechless. "You wouldn't....," he stuttered.  
"Try me."  
Peter realized that Winston was really prepared to do what he had just said. The psychologist closed his eyes and turned away. "I don't want to leave him."  
"We'll return tomorrow," Egon promised. "Please, Peter, will you go home with us?"  
Peter gave in, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Yes," he whispered.

* * *

Peter didn't sleep much that night. He spent it in front of the TV, watching the late night programme, dozing off in the morning hours. Janine had still been there when they had returned from the hospital, but he had hardly noticed her or the questioning glances she had given Winston and Egon.  
Winston had offered to drive Janine home while Egon tried to get some food into Peter. Peter had declined any food, not feeling hungry at all.  
Morning didn't come fast enough for him. He skipped breakfast, simply drinking a cup of coffee. Winston and Egon exchanged worried glances. If Peter kept on going like that he'd end up in hospital, too - as a patient. After breakfast they had driven over to the hospital. But Charlie Venkman's condition hadn't changed much.  
Ray arrived around noon, coming straight to the hospital. Peter smiled thankfully at him, but his smile never reached his eyes. He looked like something inside of him was dying and the others were sure that if Charlie Venkman died, something inside of Peter would die, too.

*

The days went by. Egon, Ray and Winston went on the busts which they could manage with just three proton beams while Peter stayed at the hospital. He would have camped in intensive care if they had let him. Janine accompanied him from time to time, watching him with worry and fear. Peter had changed. He appeared thinner, always too pale and with huge shadows under his eyes. He didn't eat much and kept mostly to himself when he was home. Sometimes he went out on walks of his own, declining her offer to accompany him to the park. She missed his smart mouth and quips. She missed their Peter.  
"Janine?"  
The secretary snapped out of her thoughts and looked up. Ray stood in front of her desk, the same look of worry on his face and in his eyes as all the others wore, too.  
"Oh, Ray. Sorry, I didn't hear what you said."  
Ray smiled a bit. "You're worried."  
She sighed. "Yes, I am. I'm worried about Peter. But if you ever tell him that I'll deny everything." She didn't sound as fervent as she usually did. "I wish I could help him through all of it. But he shuts me out. He wouldn't even let me drive him to the hospital lately."  
Ray nodded. "I know. I guess he doesn't want you to see him like this." His shoulders sagged a little. "He shuts us all out. I hope his father will make it."  
Janine simply nodded. "That's what we all hope," she whispered.

*

Peter sat at the bedside of his father again, holding the older Venkman's hand and trying not to look at the monitors. It was one week after the accident. His father had shown few moments of consciousness, but he had never stayed that way. He always slipped back into a sleep-like state. The doctor had told Peter that his father was getting better and that he would soon be responsive.  
"Why do I always hear from you when you're in trouble, hm?" the younger Venkman asked, his voice faltering a bit. "You write postcards, but never call. And then you show up with a new scam. It's always trouble with you. Can't you just come around from time to time and we go to a game? Just like father and son? Does it always have to be the police calling me to get you out of jail or something? I wish it would be your voice on the other end, telling me you simply want to see your son."  
Tears were streaming down Peter's face, but he didn't notice them. Here he was, telling his father what he had done wrong. Damnit!  
"I'm sorry, dad. I didn't want to criticise you. Just, sometimes I wish I had a normal family. When I was a kid I thought it was okay most of the times. I missed you though." Christmas popped up in his mind. He shoved the unhappy memory away. "Mom always told me you had to work. I understood. Well, most of the times." He sniffled, wiping the tears away, staring at the white sheet that covered his father. "Remember when I was twelve? We went to some baseball games when you were in town. I had the time of my life. Sorry, I never told you. I never told you much, did I?"  
Peter sighed, his thumb caressing his father's hand while he held it.  
"I was so proud when I was accepted at college. And I was even prouder when I made my first doctorate. But you weren't there for the party. And when I received my second doctorate you weren't there either." Tears started again. The memory was painful, though his friend had eased it with their presence at the ceremony when his father hadn't showed up.  
"I'm doing it again, am I?" He laughed humorlessly. "I'm telling you what you did wrong." The laugh died a quick death. "I never told you that .. that I love you, did I? I love you dad. I really do. With all your faults. I wouldn't want you any other way."  
He buried his face in the cover. The tears wouldn't come any more. He was burned out and the suffocating feeling in his chest wouldn't ease. He had put on a mask for his friends, unable to show them the real, hurt Peter inside. They all understood, they all showed him how they cared, but he couldn't let this protective wall down. He trusted them, he trusted them with his life and there had been more than one situation where they had been closer to dseath than anyone. But now it concerned his father and this part of his life was something he wasn't overly secure and open about.  
Egon and Ray had known Charlie Venkman since college when they had met his son. They had accepted Peter the way he was, never judging him by his parent's scams and cons. Winston had done the same after he had first heard of Venkman senior. Now, that his father was in hospital after having such a serious accident, Peter longed for nothing more than the security his friends could give. But he just couldn't let them to the place inside where he kept those memories of his father.  
Suddenly the hand in Peter's grasp twitched. Peter stiffened. Then he carefully lifted his head. Charlie Venkman's eyes were open. They were unfocused and clouded, but he seemed to be conscious.  
"Dad?" he hazarded, holding on to the slightly moving fingers. He was afraid that the eyes would close again, like they had done so before. He was afraid that his father would slip back into unconsciousness.  
Charlie blinked, then tried to focus on Peter. "Son?" It wasn't more than a croak but it was like a symphony to Peter's ears.  
A smile blossomed his haggard, pale face and he jumped up, leaning over his father. "Dad!"  
Charlie tried a smile which wasn't more then a slight move of the corners of his mouth. He wasn't fully aware of his surroundings, but he seemed more responsive than all the week he had been here. Peter punched the call button and seconds later a nurse entered.  
"He's conscious!" Peter's face was full of happiness and new hope. "He's conscious!"  
The nurse examined the older man on the bed and then went to get a doctor.

* * *

It took several days for Charlie Venkman to come around completely. He was actually aware of his surroundings, but he tired fast. Peter was always there, never leaving his father's side. The nurses had long since given up on throwing him out after visiting hours were over. So Peter stayed for hours and was glad when his father was finally released from intensive care.  
Two weeks after the terrible accident Charlie Venkman was much better. His ribs were healing perfectly, the bruises in his face were vanishing and his leg would be okay, too. Peter entered the hospital room with a broad smile.  
"Hi, dad," he greeted his father and looked him over. He really looked better.  
"Hello, son." The elder Venkman returned the smile and Peter sat down.  
"How are you?"  
"Well, the food's terrible, the doctors are a pain and I'm bored." He smiled a lopsided smile. "But the nurses are beautiful. And so caring ..."  
Peter chuckled. "Dad ...."  
"Hey, I try to make the best of every situation."  
"Uh-huh. What were you doing on that bus anyway?"  
"I was on my way to you."  
Peter blanched. There was a look of guilt in his eyes as he heard those words. His father had really wanted to come and see him ...... and that was why he had been in this accident.  
"I'm sorry ...," he whispered, aware that it was more than contradictory to apologize for something which wasn't his fault at all. But right now it felt appropriate. "I'm so sorry, dad......"  
Charlie Venkman shook his head, reading his son correctly. "It's not your fault. You didn't drive that bus. And it wasn't your idea to make a quick trip to New York." He smiled. "I wanted to surprise you, but I didn't want it to be like this."  
Peter laughed without humor and he sounded a bit shaky. "Yeah."  
"And how are you doing, son?"  
Peter was surprised by this question and looked away, not wanting to meet his father suddenly intent gaze. "I'm okay."  
A veined hand grabbed his and he looked up in surprise. The look in his father's eyes was that of worry and ..... something else. It was something Peter had never seen there before.  
Charlie Venkman had seen his son right after he had been fully conscious for the first time. He had worn the look of a man who hadn't slept for days, his face too thin, the eyes shadowed. Since that time Peter had worked on the sleepless look and he was no longer that pale. But worry was the predominant expression in his eyes. The older Venkman felt warm inside when he saw how much his son cared for him, but it also made him very guilty to have put Peter through all of this. And it roused other feelings of older guilt inside of him.  
"Peter?" he asked gently.  
The dark haired man shook his head. "Hey, what's up? Who's lying in a hospital, you or me? I'm fine." His voice sounded defensive and dismissive.  
But his father wasn't intimidated by it. He knew his son and he knew himself. They had a lot in common. "That's true. I'm the one who's in hospital" He looked ruefully at his bandaged leg. "And it looks like I'll be here for some time." Suddenly his father became very serious. "Peter, was I really such a bad parent?"  
That hit the younger man without early warning. He stared at his father, trying to come up with an answer that would tell all and nothing at all. "I ...ah ...."  
"I heard what you said, son," Charlie continued, "though I thought I was dreaming. I heard your voice and suddenly realized it was really you there and not some dream or my imagination." A soft smile crossed his lips. "I heard what you told me." What you blamed me for, he added in his mind, not wanting to say it aloud.  
"I didn't mean ...," Peter stammered, suddenly unable to utter a complete sentence. He wasn't prepared for that. It was too sudden, too unexpected. Gathering all his defensive shields around him he tried to project the image of total control.  
"Peter, please."  
His father sounded serious and for once Peter believed him, maybe wanted to believe that he was interested in what his son really felt. He closed his eyes and heaved a weary sigh.  
"No," he whispered. "No, you weren't bad. It's just that ... it was hard sometimes." Peter stared at the cover of the bed. He shrugged. "It was hard to come up with excuses at school when all the other kids' fathers were there and only you were missing. And mom always had to work and so ...." He inhaled, shoving those memories aside because they hurt. After all the time they still hurt as bad as the day the emotional wound had been inflicted. "It was okay, because I knew you were somewhere. But sometimes I wished you were there," he added in a small voice, still not looking at his father. "Just like a real family. Just once ..."  
Charlie Venkman still held his son's hand and squeezed it slightly. "Like on Christmas?" he asked softly.  
Peter bit his lower lip, remembering those days of his childhood. It hadn't been his father's absence ... it had been the days after the holiday when he was back in school and all the others told about their Christmas with their fathers. And Peter had nothing but another story why his dad hadn't been there. Soon, the young Peter had learned not to tell anybody about anything private anymore. He had shut out the other kids from his emotional world. He would love and joke and play, but he would never tell them more about himself. Or his family.  
"Like on Christmas," he finally admitted.  
Charlie sighed. "I never got it right, did I?"  
"No!" Peter protested, finally looking up. "I mean, mom explained it to me."  
"Which was okay when you were a kid, but not any longer. Postcards aren't enough, are they? Would you believe me if I promised to come home at Christmas from now on?"  
Peter chuckled. "No. I know you too well."  
The older Venkman grinned. "Yeah, I was afraid of that."  
There was a silence in the room that lay on Peter like a heavy cloak. Finally he asked: "How long did the doctors say you have to stay here?"  
"A few more days. They want to keep an eye on me - and I want to keep an eye on the nurses." Another grin.  
"You can stay with us until you're on your own two feet again," Peter offered.  
"I don't think that's good for your business."  
Peter stared at him in surprise. "What?" he managed.  
His father shrugged. "You know me. Can't stay still. And I wanted to meet someone here, too."  
"So you didn't really come for me, did you?" There was a tiny bit of hurt in the tenor voice and the emerald eyes held a disappointed look.  
"I did, son. I did," Charlie assured him quickly, squeezing the hand he still held.  
"But you had another scam running, too. I knew it." Peter rolled his eyes skywards. "Why did I expect something else?" A wry smile touched his lips. "You can't change a con man, right?"  
"Listen, Peter, I'd really like to stay but," his father shrugged slightly, "there are your friends and your job. I'd get on your nerves in a few days."  
"No, you wouldn't," Peter put in quickly. "And I can talk to Egon and Ray and Winston. I'm sure they'd understand."  
"They'd put up with me for the sake of you, I know. But no, Peter, thanks." Venkman knew that all three of the other Ghostbusters would tolerate him, but he wouldn't want that. Egon didn't trust him any further than he could see him without his glasses. Ray would be all excited to have Peter's father at Central and he'd have looked forward to see the bouncy occultist again. Winston would be in the background, but watchign Venkman like a hawk. They all would protect Peter from any harm his father might bring to his son. That brought a smile to his lips.  
Peter sighed in defeat. "You got an address?"  
"I'll tell you when I'm outta here."  
Suddenly the door opened and a nurse came in. "I'm sorry, but you have to leave now, Dr. Venkman."  
Peter nodded, giving his father's hand a final squeeze. "See you tomorrow."  
The older man just smiled and returned the squeeze. Then Peter left the room. Charlie Venkman looked after his son, sighing a bit and then leaning back into his pillows. There was something they would never get right, though both of them tried - both their own way. But he was glad to have a son like Peter, glad he wasn't coming after himself. Closing his eyes he drifted off into sleep.


End file.
